Mirror of the Past
by I Am Pure Awesomeness
Summary: Complications with Sapphy's family, and Faro, and a few things that I thought should've been included in the original series. Rated T for some language and mild romance. My first FanFic :D
1. Chapter 1

**This takes place after book four, The Crossing of Ingo, so there may be some spoilers.**

**And this is my first FanFiction :D**

**I'm trying the suspenseful/cliff-hanger kind or stuff. You'll see what I mean...**

**Chapter 1**

_I wish I was away in Ingo_

_Far across the briny sea,_

_Sailing o'er deepest waters_

_Where love nor care never trouble me..._

I am with Faro; we are basking in the sun on the rock where we first met. He said that he is to go on a journey, and wants me to come with him. Saldowr sent him; he said he should like me to accompany Faro. I want to go, so badly. But I can't. I am starting my first day if high school in less than a week. Mum would be worried if I were to be missing and absolutely furious if I were to miss the first day of school. Besides, I'm excited. High school means I'm grown up, I get lockers and yearbooks. I've told Faro about it, he seems worried though. He thinks it will be too big and confusing, and that I might get lost or bullied. I tell him not to fear, it will be an adventure.

Suddenly something splashes in the water. Faro jumps up, going rigid. I look at him, questioningly. His eyes hold mine, they are intense. Then he opens his mouth. "Run, Sapphire!" he shouts, getting up himself, splashing into the water. I am still. I know I should be obeying him, running from whatever danger he seems so afraid of, but I am shocked into stillness. We were happily enjoying casual conversation mere minutes ago, and now there seems to be some big danger to run from. And what about Faro, who has no choice but to swim, as he has no legs to run on?

I make my decision quickly, getting off the rock and jumping into the water. For a moment I am blinded by bubbles, then I see Faro far in the distance, swimming faster than I've ever seen him swimming before. "Faro!" I call, but he doesn't seem to hear me. I try again, I have no idea what I'm trying to get away from, but I refuse to abandon him. "FARO!" This time he hears me, and turns around. He shouts and begins swimming towards me quickly. His mouth forms a huge O as he looks behind me, and he swims faster. I've never seen him look so scared before, and I begin to turn around to see what could possibly be so frightening. He wasn't this scared when we almost got eaten by sharks, and at that time I was completely overtaken by sheer panic, almost paralyzed.

Faro knocks me aside, and I am momentarily disoriented as I float away from him, then I try to get back to where he is. I pause. I look around me, at the surface, at the ocean floor, at the general area where I assume Faro is. How odd. My eyesight is unclear. Everything is fuzzy, blurred. I think I see Faro, but I can't be sure, he's just a faint shape in the distance. "Faro!" I call again; scared now for him as well as myself. I'm not sure if I imagine it, or if I see the shape in the distance turn to look at me. Suddenly I have the overwhelming urge to sleep. I have no idea where this came from, I never feel tired in Ingo. Yet even as I wonder this, my eyes drift shut.

It must've been a while, even though it only felt like seconds, because now I am awake and washed up on shore. My vision is normal. Thank goodness, I was getting worried about that. I push myself up, my legs are a little wobbly, but overall I feel fine. Then I smack my forehead with the palm of my hand. Faro! Where is he? What happened to him? Is he alright? What was he so freaked out over? I climb over the boulders and look down the shoreline. I see a figure lying in the sand, draped in some seaweed, surrounded by gulls.

I jog up to it; it must be Faro, he probably just got washed up on shore like I did. When I get closer I realize his back is facing me, so I walk around to his other side. A choked sob escapes my throat, and I stifle a scream.

It is Faro. And... he's dead.

**I should post the next chapter within the next week or two.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I just stand there, staring at him in utter horrification. I know it to be true, but my mind can't seem to accept it. I know he's dead, though. It's like knowing one has five fingers, it's common sense; you just _know._ I kneel down and begin to reach out to him, then stop. What should I do? Who can I tell? He has a tail, I can't tell anyone. Except Conor. Conor is logical; he'll know what to do. I get up reluctantly, not wanting to leave Faro alone, even though I know it probably doesn't matter. I turn in the direction of my cottage, and turn back to look at Faro one last time. I mentally shake myself, and break into a sprint back to my home, tears streaming down my cheeks the whole way.

By the time I reach home, Conor is just on his way out, probably to visit Mal. Upon seeing my tear-stained face, Conor asks, "What's the matter?" I shift my gaze, and Conor grasps my shoulders lightly, giving them a gentle shake. He looks into my eyes, and repeats more softly, "Sapphy, what's wrong?"

I have to tell him. If I don't, maybe he won't even come with me. But then, if I don't say it, maybe it'll make it not true. I might have just been tired, and maybe he was really just unconscious. There wasn't any blood, and I didn't check him breathing. But his chest hadn't been moving. Or had it been? Now my thoughts are muddled. But I can't tell Conor. I can't say that I think Faro is dead. If I do, it'll be true, and that would be far too much for me to bear. But I have to say something...

"It's—" I begin, but my voice cracks. And that's it. I break down sobbing into Conor's arms. I thought I had established that I wasn't going to believe it? That if I played oblivious, it would all turn out to be a dream, and I would wake up to spend another lazy afternoon with Faro? _Obviously not,_ I think bitterly, taking a calming breath. If I can't seem to get more than a word out without crying, then I'm far weaker than I thought.

Conor pats my back, strokes my hair. I cling to him tightly, knowing I will never lose him. No matter what happens, Conor will always be here; will always be with me.

Hours later, I am curled up in my duvet, staring at the wall. Conor said we will see if any of the Mer find Faro, and that we will leave it until tomorrow. I think he just doesn't want to believe it either, that people so close to us keep leaving. First dad, now Faro. I agree with Conor though. I don't want to go back there. I never want to see the sea again. It stole Faro from me. It's the location of his death, the cause of his absence. A tear slips down my cheek. I have long since stopped crying, but whenever I think about it too much I can't help but feel as if life is meaningless. My future was supposed to involve long days in Ingo with Faro, but now no longer will.

I wish I could help Faro though. I want to know what happened... he was so scared; I have never seen him like that. A sudden thought strikes me. What about dad? Dad was in Ingo long before me, he may have known something about the fears of the Mer, the dangers that lurk in waters. I think of where he might have recorded such things; if I may have access to them. Hmm... Mum keeps a few boxes of his things in a shed she had built to store them in, because she still wants to keep some memories of him, even if she doesn't want them in the house to remind her of such things each day. She has Roger now; she doesn't want to dwell in the past of life before her husband's disappearance.

I push aside my duvet and get up, arching my stiff back and cracking my knuckles. I grab a sweater and put it on, heading for outside. I want to look through dad's things; I must find some way to help Faro, though it will still be too late. It already is.

I realize with a sudden cry that Faro's death is _my _fault. Had I run like he told me to, and not followed him, he wouldn't have turned back for me and therefore wouldn't have—

No. I mustn't think of such things, true as they may be. What's happened has happened. You can't go back. The best remedy for guilt or regret is to move on, and deal with the choices that were made. I take a deep breath, and steel myself as I crack open the shed door. There is a stack of boxes against the far wall, and little else. I tug on the string hanging from the ceiling to turn on a single light bulb, which illuminates the dark room. I start forward and open the first box, beginning my search.

After many boxes and a few paper cuts, I find a journal. _Perfect,_ I think. Just the kind of place that secrets of Ingo might be stored. I open it and read a few pages, only to discover that it is not dad's journal, but mum's. She must have accidentally thrown it in one of his boxes. I skim the next few pages subconsciously, feeling mildly guilty about looking through her stuff, when I come across a particularly messily-written entry. I focus a little to read it, curious about something that I am aware is absolutely none of my business, but I am strangely entranced. It begins with saying,

"_I know I probably made a mistake, but I want to remember it, lovely as it would be to forget. So I am writing it in this journal, so that when I again become sober the memory will still be available to me, if I choose to learn it. I met a lovely mystery man today at the bar, but had already drunk too much, and am still full of alcohol. Mathew and I have out wedding in a week; I was picking up some special champagne, but made the mistake of ordering something for myself as well. I wasn't thinking straight, still am not, and was that man ever handsome. We had a lovely night together."_

I am appalled, surely what I am reading is not true? My attention is drawn to the next entry, the writing much neater, though blurred in some places, as if by teardrops.

"_Yesterday I had a son. A beautiful baby boy, I named him Conor. I love him, Mathew adores him too. But upon reading my latest entry, I cannot believe my stupidity. My terrible mistake, my horrible actions. I can't ever tell Mathew. Can't ever tell anyone. I will suffer by knowing that I alone am aware of the truth: Mathew isn't Conor's real father."_


End file.
